Incontinence Money Flows Uncontrollably

I woke up.

They sure do.

I could see that either the big hand was on the eight and the little on the six, or vice versa, without my glasses on, but either way, I had plenty of time to sleep more, even if it was the little hand on the eight.

My appointment was at noon, to be vetted for participation in a clinical study on urinary incontinence.

Why that?

I had gotten a pop up on my smartphone asking me if I wanted to participate in this study, for which I would be compensated fifty dollars, (yes Lilly, only fifty bucks for letting total strangers use me as a guinea pig) for each visit to the place, over the next 14 weeks.

The first thing I thought was, gee, ever since I started using the Internet, 24 years ago now, I have always reflexively rejected any offer of any kind that ever popped up, anywhere, often x-ing it out before the box was fully open, but this...

I must admit that "annoying" pop up ads have begun to be less so lately, because they have been for things like harmonicas or writing courses, and not just Viagra, or telling me how to claim my free cruise to the Bahamas. 

I thought that one of my well meaning friends, having been maybe too sensitive to my feelings to inquire about my running to the restroom 3 times during a 3 hour visit to the Uxi Duxi, might have referred me to the urinary incontinence people over there at Touro Hospital.

I usually drink a lot of coffee before I leave the apartment for the Uxi Duxi, or  anywhere else, for that matter. It is as if I am subconsciously afraid of falling asleep out there, somewhere.

Then, sure, my first sip of kratom makes me reach for a cigarette and seems to trigger the bladder at the same time.

It would be in character for the technically savvy millennial staff at the Uxi Duxi to forward me information about such a study, perhaps initially as sort of a practical joke, because I run to the bathroom so frequently.

I guess that is something that I never blogged about.

But, back when I drank alcohol, I would often have a strong urge to urinate when I was busking and would be preparing to go and do so, just as I was approached by tourists of the "Play my girlfriend a song on her birthday, I'll give you twenty bucks," variety.

Then, fifteen minutes later I might experience "leakage," on my way to find a place to urinate (in between two cars, because there are so few places in the Quarter where one can use a restroom without making a purchase, and because, isn't that part of the charm of The French Quarter, you can piss in the street, just like in France?).

And there were other times when, after I thought I was done and had zipped myself back up, more urine would dribble out as I was walking away from the spot in between two cars.

"Leakage," is their euphemism at Touro hospital. I wondered about that....would the doctor ask: "So, you been pissin' your pants a bit, lately?"

I don't think I am being a total fraud by having submitted myself for consideration in the program, and having been accepted, as a matter of fact, this afternoon.

I had only been about 12 minutes late for my noon appointment.

They had already asked me about a dozen questions over the phone, when they first called me, as a way of determining whether or not I should even go in.

This was in response to my having clicked "Yes, I'll do anything for fifty bucks every two weeks!" or whatever it was.

Once there at 12:12 PM, I was handed a clipboard and a pen, then mostly answered "no" to ever having had a whole slew of diseases and conditions, no recent brain surgeries, no fainting -just pissing myself occasionally.

As far as the C.O.P.D. episode back in '13, I have attributed that to the breathing in of feathers and/or dander from a Black Caped Night Heron that was flapping its wings in my face at the time of the flare-up.


I wouldn't want to confuse that with a chronic condition, nor blow my chance to get the fifty dollars' so I checked "no" in the C.O.P.D. box.

I gave a urine sample and a blood sample, after having been given an EKG, and having my blood pressure taken.

I was told that one subject in three would be given a placebo, rather than the "urinary incontinence" drug. I put that term in quotation marks because, I have a sneaky suspicion that the drug is really an anti-anxiety drug and that the theory is that, perhaps urinary incontinence is related to a person's anxiety level.
I wasn't asked any questions about my "urinary incontinence," at all, but answered a battery of questions about depression and suicidal tendencies.

That was kind of funny because, if you answered the first question of "I have thought about committing suicide" in the affirmative, then you were instructed to answer the next few, the last of which was "I attempted suicide but failed, yes or no?"

Is that the definition of a cosmic loser, or what, can't even kill himself!
Note to self: Start a subreddit for survivors of suicide attempts, be the moderator...

But, They gave me fifty dollars on my way out, in the form of a check written to me, which I had no problem cashing at The Unique Grocery store.

Sam, the owner, even waived one dollar of the check cashing fee.

It had been two dollars, out of the fifty dollar check.

"Oh, four percent, eh?" I had asked Sam.

"No, two dollars, everything...pretty good, huh?"

Give a skeezer an inch, and...

"Well, pretty good if you're cashing a big check, not so good if you're cashing a two dollar check." I replied.

Sam then handed me back one of the two dollars that he had taken out.

"You're my friend," he said, in a gesture of tenderness rarely seen at The Unique Grocery Store, where a tough disposition must be maintained, to keep the skeezers in line, with several of them having been barred from the place and relegated to having to stand in front and try to get someone they feel they can trust with the $2.21 to go in and buy their beer for them.

So, I cashed the check and walked out of Unique's with 49 dollars; pretty good...

Now, I have a couple of bottles of what has a 1 in 3 chance of being a placebo. I am instructed to take one pill from bottle A, and one pill from bottle B in the morning, and then again at night.

I also have been given a "diary" to record my urinary comings and goings, and if there was any "leakage."

So, here seems to be a way to supplement my income with fifty bucks every two weeks.

This also sets back any trip to New England for another 14 weeks, but, maybe at that point, I will be able to do the thing correctly, by buying bus tickets and planning stops along the way and back to coincide with festivals and other buskable events.

The only thing that I can foresee going wrong is, if I have been given the actual drug, and not the placebo, having some kind of adverse reaction to it, and being forced to withdraw from the study, and the forty nine bucks every two weeks.

I can almost hear Alex in California saying: "Dude, I would find out exactly what the drug is and thoroughly research it before swallowing the first pill," and I will do that, but I will take the first few doses, thinking that I will find out right away, through my hypersensitive body, if I got the placebo.

How are they going to know if I am taking it? I don't really know.
Maybe they have to "jump through this hoop" by conducting the study, and are secretly hoping the people won't take the drug, only the fifty bucks, so that they will have absolutely no ill side effects to report, and can go on to the next phase of its development.

It seems that I was a good candidate because of the scantiness of my medical history. I have never been diagnosed, nor treated for depression, (with drugs, I assume) and this seemed to buoy their enthusiasm towards signing me up. And being currently on no medications helped. They might be on the lookout for people who participate in these studies by faking symptoms, for the money.

Other than that, we got along great...

I thought that I might blow it by telling them that I sold plasma, or that I took a shot of kratom almost every afternoon, like some people do a cup of tea, but neither of those subjects presented themselves, not even after the guy who drew blood from me was able to use the existing hole in my arm, conveniently placed there by the Octapharma staff.

I have a feeling that they just have to go through the motions of conducting a double-blind placebo based study as part of the rigmarole of getting the drug "approved" and placed on the market.

Or... I am going to go heron-shit crazy on the stuff and go from apartment to apartment strangling skeezers with the bath towel that Louise Helton left behind when she stayed at my place. The light blue-green one.

You are reading the work of a International Association of Professional Writers and Editors member, blog readers.

 The sample of my writing that I sent to these clowns was met with approval, met their standards, and I have been accepted as a member.

I am suspicious, though, that they might accept everybody's writing sample, deeming them all to be up to their standards, because that is how they make money, by convincing people that their writing is good (and so why don't they start to pay $5.95 a month, so as to take advantage of "membership?").
I might be being cynical, because, of course they have to make some money, but my writing...meets their quality standards...get outta here!! I wasn't born yesterday.

Like they are the ones selling the picks and mules and pans and mosquito spray, so why not convince everyone that there's gold in them thar' hills?